


Five Stages

by beaches_at_treasure_island



Series: DD Snapshot 'verse [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Brotherhood, Brotp, Family, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Loss of Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaches_at_treasure_island/pseuds/beaches_at_treasure_island
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy learns to deal with the consequences of finding out Matt's secret. Based on the five stages of grief according to the Kubler-Ross model.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Denial

Denial was the first thing he felt as Foggy peeled back the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s mask. Seeing his best friend’s face peering up at him felt wrong. For fuck’s sake, Matt Murdock was a blind man. How could he go around beating the shit out of people? No, no, Matt couldn’t be the masked vigilante. It wasn’t possible. But, added a small voice in Foggy’s head, how else does he get those scrapes and bruises? How could he be here, now, with these cuts, lying on the floor of Matt’s apartment? What if he really had blown up those parts of Hell’s Kitchen?

Pushing away his thoughts on the matter, Foggy dragged Matt to the couch and attempted to call 911 for an ambulance to the hospital. When Matt took a drunken swing at him, Foggy shrunk back. Matt had never been violent, per se. Though he supposed that Matt Murdock wasn’t the man Foggy thought he was. Matt had fished the burner phone that Foggy had believed to be his booty-call phone from his pocket and tossed it at the man.

“Call Claire. She’s a nurse,” Matt had rasped before slumping back into the couch cushions, passing out from pain and blood loss.

Still hurt, Foggy had dialed the only number programed into the cell phone and relayed to the woman on the other end that Matt was injured, badly, and had requested her help. Then he hung up and waited for her to arrive.


	2. Anger: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Anger "chapter" looks like it will be at least two parts. Depending on how much more fits under the Anger heading, it could even extend to three or four parts. Still unsure, but here's Anger Part One.

Waiting for Matt to wake was nerve wracking. It also allowed Foggy time to build his anger. Anger that his best friend hadn’t told him about this. Anger that Matt felt he couldn’t trust Foggy. They had been best friends for years, and Matt had decided to withhold such important information from Foggy as being a vigilante? His anger did not abate as he paced the apartment.

He was mad at Matt, madder than he ever recalled feeling about anything. Claire had patched Matt up decently enough that Foggy didn’t hover over the man’s prone form. She had been nice enough, and if Foggy hadn’t still been stewing in his anger and hurt, he might have actually liked the woman, but he was hurt that some stranger knew about Matt’s alter ego before the man’s closest friend.

Foggy heard his friend shift on the couch. Unable to look at him, he went into the kitchen and got himself a beer from the fridge. It was early, but who fucking cared?

As Matt attempted to shift himself upright on the couch, Foggy took a breath and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you... Then again? Maybe I would. The hell do I know about Matt Murdock?” Foggy took a deep drink from his beer, hoping the alcohol would help steady him.

“You stitched me up?” Matt rasped in surprise.

“Nope,” Foggy replied evenly, rounding the sitting area to stand behind one of the armchairs facing Matt’s now-bloodied couch. “That was your nurse friend.” His voice gave no hint of the rage boiling beneath his skin.

“Claire?”

“You had me get a hold of her after you took a swing at me for trying to get you to the hospital.” Foggy swallowed the lump in his throat. He was still in shock, he supposed, that his best friend...? former best friend...? had tried to hit him. Out of all the things Foggy would have bet real money on about Matt, nothing coincided with violence or vigilante-ism.

“I – I don’t remember... Sorry.” Matt tugged at the blanket on his lap for something to do as Foggy sat heavily in the armchair closest to his head.

“She was hot, by the way,” Foggy stated, staring at the bottle in his hands. “But I guess you already knew that, huh?” The man sounded like he was holding back tears, but inside it was more than that. He was holding back his anger, the loud shouting he wanted to give into.

Matt turned his head in his friend’s direction. “Foggy,” he said sadly, as though he had no words to describe what he wanted to tell his brother in all but blood.

“Just tell me one thing, Matt. Are you even really blind?” Foggy felt the anger begin seeping into his words and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it back much longer.


End file.
